A New Tide
by Myosotis13
Summary: Ep. 106 'Don't say such selfish things like that! I also have a dream, to become a violinist! I can't do something stupid like saving the world from destruction! ' A story of how Michiru awakened as Sailor Neptune.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

The sunlight broke through the tall windows into a majestic bedroom, elegantly decorated in calm, pastel colors. A king-sized bed stood in the middle of the room, and next to it, a low nightstand with an alarm clock and a framed picture on top. An imposing wardrobe and a small wooden table made up the rest of the furniture—little enough to make the room seem overly spacious, somehow incomplete…

The clock on the nightstand started ringing.

From under the navy-blue covers, a small hand emerged. It hit the clock with surprising force, and the shrill sound of the alarm stopped abruptly.

"Alright, alright…" came a small irritated sigh, "I get the message…"

A girl stood up in the royal bed that was too big for her alone. She rolled a couple of times to reach the edge, and lowered her feet to the silky slippers waiting on the floor. Just as she was heading for the bathroom, a soft knock was heard at the door.

"Come" she instructed without stopping.

A woman clad in a dark blue uniform with a white apron entered the bedroom.

"Good morning, Michiru-san. I am here to remind you about the meeting with Mr. Keizai, from the museum…"

The girl nodded. She remembered having asked the woman to mention the meeting. She often asked that of the employee—to go over the day's schedule in the mornings. Truthfully, she would not have forgotten anyway…but Michiru felt like having someone to exchange a few words with in the morning.

"Thank you, Chindan."

She then went into the bathroom. The woman shrugged and proceeded to making the bed. She had not expected much more from the peculiar girl—she had been in the service of Kaioh Michiru for almost a year, and was already used to the cool treatment.

Twenty minutes later, Michiru was having breakfast in the well-lit kitchen of her one-story house. As she sipped from her cup of tea, she looked out the window at the awakening neighborhood. She had chosen to live in quiet surroundings, but even so, there was enough stirring in the vicinity of her out-of-the-way house. Men and women went out the front doors, got into their cars, waved at their spouses or children and drove to work. Occasionally, a plump kid would pass by in a run, still chewing the last pieces of his breakfast.

"Michiru-san, these arrived for you" Chindan set a bunch of envelopes on the table.

With a small nod of gratitude, the girl reached for her morning mail. Card from the museum of art, invitation to attend a concert, invitation to the opera next Saturday, invitation to play in a joint concert, bill…

With a small sigh, she replaced the envelopes on the table.

"Chindan, look through them. If there's an invitation to any concert you would like to see, take it."

"Yes, thank you." The woman was already used to that procedure, as well—her work had _some _rewards. "Anything I can get you?"

Michiru shook her head. While she needed help with the house chores, she did not particularly wish to be attended.

"I'm leaving for school now."

"Yashashi-kun is waiting outside, as usual."

The girl said goodbye, picked up the school bag and left the house. Outside, in a comfortable, yet not too conspicuous car, the hired driver waited as he did every morning, Mondays to Fridays.

"Good morning, Miss Michiru!" he greeted with a cheerful smile. "Ready? You look dashing, I'm sure there's a lot of heartbroken boys at that school of yours…!"

"Good morning" she awarded him a smile in return.

"Which route would you like us to take today?"

"Over the—"

"Bridge…yes, I suspected this much. You really enjoying watching the sea in the morning, don't you, Miss Michiru?" He winked good-naturedly at her. "Well, that route it is then!"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Michiru didn't always enjoy going to school. Oh, she liked most of the classes, especially Arts and Music, and she adored sitting under the old oak-tree in the schoolyard, listening to the animated chatter around her. But she hated the long looks the other girls gave her, and the—sometimes _too _friendly—bantering from the boys in her class.

Her position was a strange one. As an only child in a well-off family, she was sometimes the target of the others' envy—and even more so because of her talents. Her parents traveled around the world eleven months a year—for the past two years, she had practically been on her own. But she had managed just fine, with the help of a generous allowance and her innate resourcefulness.

"Hello, Kaioh! So, when are you inviting me to one of your concerts?"

A tall, blonde boy from her class blocked her path, winking mischievously. With a disdainful grimace, she tried to go around him, but he moved to cut her way again.

"Or, I could pose for one of your paintings…" He built an innocent expression. "Do you do nudes?"

Michiru rolled her eyes.

"Get lost, Namaiki."

She pushed past him, and was thankful when the bell rang. Quickening the pace, she took a furtive glance at her reflection in a glass, then stepped inside the classroom.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

That afternoon, Michiru sat in her working area, contemplating the barely visible wrinkles of a fresh, white canvas. She hadn't painted anything in weeks—every time she picked up a brush lately, a barely discerned sensation of unease settled in her stomach. But she missed painting, and had decided to have another try that day.

She had chosen watercolors, but changed her mind and took out the oils. She set aside various nuances of blue, hoping her favorite color might prove more inspiring. Tentatively, the brush touched the canvas, drawing a seemingly random streak of dark blue across the canvas.

Michiru frowned. She usually had an outline of her painting in mind, if not the whole picture, before actually creating it. But this time…this time, all she could work with was a blurry image at the back of her mind.

She tilted her head to study the streak the brush had left behind.

_It does seem familiar, though…like I've seen it before…in a distant dream…_

"What am I talking about…it's just an inky splash…!"

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get a clear image to crystallize in her mind…yet she felt she could paint it anytime. She shook her head, and shrugged in silent resignation.

"Whatever works is fine, I guess…"

And the brush touched the canvas again.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Two hours later, Michiru set the brush aside, and studied the painting from afar. It still had a familiar look to it, but it resembled nothing—or at least, no recognizable object, scenery or person. If she had to assign a category, she would have said…

"I've painted…a thought."

"Is it a good thought, at least?"

Michiru turned on her heels with an expression of displeasure.

"Chindan, please, don't sneak up on me here."

"I'm sorry, Michiru-san" the woman replied mechanically and not sounding the least bit regretful. "There's a phone call for you. The music teacher from that course you're taking…"

As Michiru left to take the call, Chindan risked another glance at the unfinished painting.

"I may not know anything about art, but even I can tell…that is _not _a good thought!"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Night set in, and the full moon rose high on the sky, dimming the darkness. It shone on the sleeping neighborhood, slipping its rays through window cracks and under closed doors. Through the tall windows, its white light inundated Michiru's bedroom.

Curled in the middle of her bed, the girl squeezed the sheets tightly in her fists. In her sleep, she frowned and let out erratic breaths. She seemed caught in the throes of a nightmare…but gradually, her breathing eased, and her grip relaxed. Her tense body appeared to unwind, and soon, the girl was sleeping peacefully, with no apparent memory of the dream that had stirred her.

The next morning, as the alarm clock rang as usual, Michiru did not reach out to silence it. Instead, she allowed the high-pitched alarm to pierce the otherwise quiet house…

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

**AN: So, what do you think? Like the beginning? Should I go on? Review and let me know:)! **

**Myosotis**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Enjoy the next chapter!**

**Chapter II**

The music from the violin enlivened the entire house. The intense melody seemed to reach every corner of every room, and bounce off every neatly-painted wall. Michiru could feel her entire being resonate with each note, as her bow ran over the strings in confident, fluid moves.

No one would have guessed it was the first time she played the melody. She didn't know where it came from exactly. It had simply formed in her mind when she had picked up her violin for the daily practice. The music did not resemble any piece Michiru had ever heard in her life…and yet it was painfully familiar. Only, once again, the memory and reality of it were just beyond her reach.

She had been painting a thought, and now… she was playing one as well.

As she listened to note after penetrating note, Michiru felt an indistinct longing emerge within her. Unconsciously, she played louder, as if trying to drown out the strange voice inside her.

_You know why…you know it inside…you've seen it all, you've heard it before…_

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

"Chindan, are there any more mailings?"

"No" the woman replied idly, while she dusted off the massive bookshelf in the living room.

Michiru sighed in discontent, and looked for something to divert her attention. She was not prone to boredom…yet the rare times it befell her, she would pace around the house for hours, searching for a distracting activity. Those times, she felt the absence of a family more keenly then ever…

The girl slowly eyed the entire room, and decided nothing there could provide a necessary challenge. Jaded, she let herself drop onto the sofa.

"What the…?" She stood up a second later, and pulled a thick magazine from under her. "How did this get here?"

"Oh, sorry! I must've forgotten it there! My nephew asked me to get it for him and I haven't had the chance to give it to him yet." Chindan shrugged. "Kids love this stuff, don't know what on Earth keeps them so interested…"

Michiru hummed with apparent disinterest, but the sports' magazine had caught her attention. She leisurely leafed through it.

**_Results to the latest F1 race counter all predictions!_**

She skipped to the next article.

_**The new model from Toyota offers an entire palette of…**_

Next.

**_Win a trip to Monte Carlo! (instructions on the third cover)_**

She turned the page again. None of the articles really interested her.

_**Promising junior racer scores yet another success! **_

Michiru's eyes were drawn to the small picture attached to the article. It was not a best-quality image, but it clearly showed a young man holding a racing helmet in one hand.

"Tenoh Haruka…"

The name was not entirely new to her. Michiru recalled how her father had mentioned it—watching car and motorcycle races was one of his hobbies, and he talked about it every time they met. She didn't mind, though. They couldn't readily find topics for discussion, anyway.

As the thoughts crossed her mind, Michiru skimmed the article. Haruka Tenoh received very favorable comments from the sport columnists.

Acting on impulse, the girl reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. Her fingers instinctively pressed the right button, and the screen switched to sports' channel.

"Wow…I didn't think you even knew where the TV was, and now it turns out you know the channels by heart…" Chindan commented with a certain lack of decorum.

Michiru almost gasped in surprise—she hadn't even known there _was _such a program…or did she?

She recalled another discussion with her father, almosta year before. She had felt a yearning to share at least one of his hobbies…so she had watched a race with him. Haruka Tenoh had ranked first, and Michiru had felt unusually thrilled about it. Her father had commented on how races involve the viewers, and she had happily agreed, feeling they finally shared a closer moment…

But then her parents had gone away again, and she had been left with only the fading impression of closeness…

…that, and an unnaturally long-lasting memory of how to find the sports' channel.

_"Welcome to this season's first track-and-field competition, we hope you enjoy the ride with us! Now, let us present the favorites in this race…"_

"Well, he obviously has a penchant for speed—" Michiru's cut her comment short as a close-up of the young runner, Haruka Tenoh, appeared on the screen. "What the…? Impossible!"

Chindan stopped dusting and squinted to see the screen.

"She's everyone's favorite at the moment…"

"_She_…?"

Michiru shook her head in disbelief. She checked the television screen again—surely enough, the channel showed a women's competition. The girl leaned forward, propping her elbows against her knees. On screen, the participants were lining at the start. Easily, she singled Tenoh Haruka out, and watched her run…

…without realizing it, Michiru held her breath for the first few seconds. Moving lithely, the sandy blonde glided by the other runners with no apparent effort, quickly taking the lead.

Transfixed, Michiru watched the screen, but her mind no longer focused on the race. She reached for the remote control and turned off the television. She didn't need to catch the end to know who had won.

"Tenoh Haruka…"

Again, the name brought about an air of familiarity, and Michiru could not even begin to guess why that was.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

When the driver rang the doorbell to announce his presence later than afternoon, Michiru was up in her bedroom, and in a somewhat agitated state. She usually felt that way before going to a display of her own paintings. Uncertainty always mixed with pride whenever she noticed other people study her works.

"Michiru-san…?"

The girl finished tying up the turquoise ribbon in her hair, and opened the door. Right outside, Chindan was preparing to knock again. The woman gave her a look from head to toes, and for a moment, Michiru almost expected a compliment of some sort…

"The driver is waiting outside, is there anything I can help you with?"

She shook her head with a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps circumstances had taught her to be self-sufficient, but Michiru sometimes felt the need to be encouraged. Of course, Chindan, her house employee, was not the right person to be expecting such feats from. The girl had never sought—and never honestly wanted—her friendship.

And the woman had not offered it voluntarily. At almost twice Michiru's age, Chindan felt half-envious of the teenager's social position, and half-intimidated by her self-reliance and detached attitude.

"No, thank you. Please have dinner ready at about eight…I expect I will be back by then."

"Yes."

Michiru descended the steps, and took one last look at herself in the tall mirror downstairs. She _thought_ she looked nice in the new azure dress tailored especially for her. But she was very much in doubt. The girl was not sure of how a young lady her age was supposed to dress. She had read about it in magazines and books, of course. That girls should choose clothes that showed off their best parts…except Michiru did not know exactly what those best parts were.

She frowned at her reflection, and shrugged in frustration. Bidding Chindan goodbye, she went out the door.

"Good day, Miss Michiru!" Yashashi came out of the car and opened the door for her. Just as she was about to climb into the car, he eyed her and smiled appreciatively. "You look very pretty! People will take you for one of the models, rather than an artist! Now, no need to blush, Miss" he added as he saw her cheeks redden slightly, "this is the truth, and if anyone dares say otherwise, they'll have to answer to me!"

"Thank you, Yashashi-san" the girl replied sweetly. "You're too kind."

He closed the door with a slight shake of his head. He wished the young lady would have more faith in herself. He would have told her so, if he hadn't thought it would come across as rude, or even offending.

"To the Art Gallery, then, Miss Michiru?"

"Yes, please."

As the car drove down the road, Michiru pressed her forehead against the window, and watched the scenery roll before her eyes. Soon, the sea came within sight, and she was once more spellbound by the still, blue immensity that shone golden in the afternoon sun. As she watched the vastness of sapphire waters, the girl felt it was not enough…the ocean was too far away, infinitely out of her reach…

Almost instinctively, she rolled down the car window. The salty sea air reached her, and she happily breathed in. Suddenly, a gust of wind whipped her face, ruffling her carefully pinned-up curls…

…and Michiru did not even bother to keep them in place.

She closed her eyes, and relaxed against the backseat, taking in the scent of ocean air, while the soft breeze still caressed her face. And for one infinitely short moment, everything seemed right.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

**AN: Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Let me know! Review;) **

**Hugs,**

**Myosotis**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!**

**Chapter III**

The atmosphere at the gallery of art was relaxed, pleasurable. The spacious rooms that hosted the collections were well-lit and welcoming. People of various ages walked around from painting to painting, stopping in front of some, or admiring others in stride.

Michiru walked around, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She had viewed all the paintings of the current exposition—and with a natural surge of pride, she had returned to the room that hosted three of her own works. She now watched others study her pieces and tried to guess people's reactions.

Two women were just looking at one of her more recent creations—an image of the ocean at sunset, with seagulls diving in the darkening waters.

"I can just about see the movement in this picture…" one opined, obviously impressed. "It's almost… alive!"

"I'm almost relieved to see an image I can recognize, with all the abstract art we've visited today…" the other commented with a snort, "but you're right, this is really good…these two others as well."

"Kaioh Michiru…we've heard of her before haven't we?" The first woman frowned, trying to remember. "Oh, isn't she the young violinist that's been making quite an impression? I didn't know she painted, too…"

"Hmm…I can hardly believe she's only fifteen. What kind of normal girl does all that at this age? She must be really lonely, to dedicate herself to playing and painting so much…"

"That's not fair" the other argued, "I think she has an incredible talent to share through these works…"

Michiru had heard enough. Slowly, she distanced herself from the two women; sadness welled up within her. She did not think she led a lonesome life…she rarely found herself yearning for more company. Was that what everyone thought? That her passions were actually escapes from loneliness?

_They're wrong! They…they **have **to be wrong! I've never done any of it out of some feeling of abandon! I am **not **lonesome…_

_I am simply…alone…and it's none of my fault! _

"This doesn't look at all lonely to me" a firm, loud voice suddenly rang behind her. "Just incredibly expressive. And perhaps… slightly secretive. Like it's veiling a mystery that the artist herself hasn't unraveled yet."

Almost against herself, Michiru turned her head. A third person had joined the two women, and was offering an opinion on her work. Her heart unwillingly warmed at the other's words and Michiru took a few steps towards the group again.

The two women left to see the rest of the exposition, but the third person remained, watching the seagull painting with apparent interest. Michiru tried to get a better look, and noticed her supporter was a tall girl of athletic build.

"This is pretty good, don't you think so?" The tall girl suddenly addressed her, without even turning. She eventually turned when no reply came. "Well…?"

"Oh, uhm…I…" Michiru was reluctant to speak about her own creation. "I suppose…"

"Don't be modest, I'm not paying you compliments" the other girl said matter-of-factly. "I simply think you have a lot of talent."

"How did you know I painted it?"

"Trust me…I know the look of a girl nervous about her own accomplishments…"

Michiru smiled uncomfortably.

"I guess it's not fair, Kaioh Michiru, for me to know who you are, but not the other way around" the other suddenly said, reaching out a hand. "Elsa Gray."

"Nice to meet you, Gray-san."

"Elsa, please."

Michiru nodded.

"It's Michiru, then."

"So…Michiru…would you fancy a cup of tea? The cafeteria's just outside. If nothing else, it'll take your mind of the exposition for a while! Then you can come back and snoop incognito again."

The aqua-haired girl laughed.

"I do _not _snoop."

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

"It was a successful display then, Miss Michiru?"

Yashashi gave her a smiling look in the rear-view mirror. They were on their way back home from the exhibition, and he had noticed the girl with an air of unusual cheerfulness about her. Not that Yashashi thought she was usually gloomy—no, he had noticed her optimism and sweetness from the start, but they were usually greatly subdued.

"You look like you had fun."

"I did…" She recalled the talk with Elsa over the steaming cups of tea. "Oh, and the exposition went well, too."

"I take it you made some new friends then?"

The girl smiled.

"Yes…yes, I think I did."

"Good" the driver muttered under his breath.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

One of the following afternoons, Michiru dug out Chindan's magazine from under the cushions of the sofa, where she had carelessly left it. She shuffled through the pages once more, looking for Elsa Gray's name. The fraise-haired, dark-skinned girl had mentioned she was a track-and-field athlete, with only a few races behind her. But from the way she talked about running, Michiru could tell she was going to make it far. Elsa sounded truly passionate about the sport…and the aqua-haired girl wondered if she could really understand a passion that intense.

_She wants to be the fastest runner…she wants to always come out first…but I? I play because I feel like it…I paint because I enjoy it. _

_I don't want people to think my works are the best. I just want them to…get the message… _

_Should I be more competitive…? _

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

The same evening found Michiru practicing her violin. Eyes half-closed, the girl played energetically, all her senses tuned in on the deep notes of the melody.

In her mind, she saw herself standing on a bright stage, in a spacious hall filled with elegant people who looked up at her in admiration. People who heard her song, and felt comforted and heartened. She saw herself smiling at them, playing the melodies with ease and dedication, her bow flying over the chords in an intricate dance of passion.

Her heart warmed at the image her mind had shaped. With a flourish, she finished the song, and opened her eyes.

"Bravo!" With a short clapping, Elsa Gray stood from the sofa, where she had been listening to Michiru's violin. "That was…wonderful! I'm not sure I can describe it right...it was as if you knew what I felt, and sang to echo those feelings!"

The shorter girl bowed slightly in gratitude for the words.

"How do you do it, Michiru? How do you play so intensely, paint so beautifully? Oh, stop being so reticent"—Michiru was beginning to shake her head—"you have a lot of talent, deal with it!"

"You think too much of me, Elsa. You're boosting my ego a bit too much" the other joked.

"What I can't understand…what motivates you to keep working, keep improving? With me, it's always the thought of someone running faster but…"

"I don't need competition to follow my passion…" Michiru said honestly "I want to play for everyone who wants to listen…to make them live the music just like I do…"

_This is my dream…and I know I'll reach it some day._

**AN: Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Please review and let me know! **

**Hugs,**

**Myosotis**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you very, very much for reviewing:)**

**Chapter IV**

"So, what do you think? This one" and she held up a navy-blue satin dress, "or this one?" and she held a creamy silk dress.

Chindan fixed her with wide eyes. The question slightly surprised her.

"They both look good…I'd go for the cream, though."

Michiru was still studying the dresses, when the phone rang throughout the house. It was Elsa.

"Well…not exactly, I'm not ready yet. You see…" The girl laughed softly at her own childishness, "I can't decide on what to wear."

_Michiru, it's not a royal ball, _came the amused voice on the other end, _it's just a school dance! I was ready in thirty minutes!_

"Well, I'm not a track-and-field runner" she quipped, "speed is not my line of work!"

_It better be, because I'm coming to pick you up in half hour. _

"But that's not enough time!" she said with false indignation.

_Sure it is, even for someone who doesn't run the track! So be ready!_

Thirty-seven minutes later, Michiru opened the front door. Elsa was waiting outside, elegantly dressed in a black silky dress that stopped right above her knees.

"Nice to see you" the smaller girl greeted with a smile.

"Nice to see you're not still wearing the bathrobe" the other joked. "So…you ready?"

"Mmhm… not that I had much choice in the matter…!"

"You know", Elsa admitted, "you come across as rather mature, really. I've never imagined you as the girly type, anyway. Spending hours in front of the mirror and such…!"

For a second, Michiru's expression and tone grew serious.

"I'm not" she admitted. "But I have been feeling rather…immature, lately."

As they walked towards the car, she continued in a soft voice.

"It's as if something…some defense mechanism inside me is pushing me to be as childish and unreasonable as possible…!"

"Defense mechanism?" Elsa sounded disbelieving. "Defense against _what_?"

"That's precisely it…I don't know." Michiru paused for a second, then laughed dismissively. "It's silly, really…forget it."

The dark-skinned girl gave her a confused glance, but gave up the issue with a shrug.

The two drove to the dance in Elsa's car. As they rolled down the crowded road, Michiru couldn't help commenting:

"You know, for someone who wants to run faster than everyone else, you sure drive incredibly slow…"

The athlete laughed.

"I'm not that comfortable behind the wheel, actually. I'd take running any day. But I thought you didn't like speed!" she teased.

"I don't…" Michiru's voice caught a dreamy edge. "But I wish…I could feel the wind on my face as I drove down an evening road…just once…"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Having arrived home little before midnight, Michiru went straight up to her bedroom. She changed to her nightgown, and opened the window for some fresh air before going to sleep.

She had only half-enjoyed the dance. Sometimes, when she found herself longing for company, she dreamt of that sort of school gatherings. But actually going to the dance had, once more, given her the impression that somehow, she did not _belong_…

Elsa had loved it, of course. Seeking fun and very outgoing, the fraise-haired girl had barely set foot in the room when a crowd of noisy dancers had swallowed her. Michiru, on the other hand, had been much more reluctant to join the general party. She did not feel overly uncomfortable—but not terribly at ease, either.

She had greeted classmates, chatted with a couple of them and a couple of teachers…and had eventually sought a more quiet atmosphere on the balcony outside. There, looking up at the night sky, in the growing light of the moon, Michiru had felt much more relaxed and carefree.

She thought she had seen a shooting star. But when she had wanted to wish upon it, she could not think of what to ask. There was no event she particularly wanted to happen, no one she longed for, and no material concerns to worry her. She could find nothing concrete to wish for. It seemed that nothing was missing in her life.

_Or rather, I can't tell what is missing…_

She had eventually wished to find the meaning of her life.

Then, just as the last fiery trail of the shooting star extinguished, she had also snuck in another quick wish. To drive down that long evening road, if just once…

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

"Here's your morning mail, Michiru-san."

Chindan placed the envelopes on the table. The aqua-haired girl did not even look up. The woman cleared her throat loudly. As she still got no reaction, she tilted her head and gave Michiru a strange look. The teenager stared into her teacup, with an expression of doubt etched on her face. She mechanically stirred the steaming tea with a teaspoon, her eyes fixed on the twirling liquid inside the cup.

Chindan shrugged. Her employer's mental state was none of her concern. The girl was strange, anyway. Despite her relative celebrity and active social life, she always seemed aloof and snooty.

The maid went about her daily business: watching the morning news, opening the windows to air the house, and pretending to dust the elegant furniture. Some time later, she was surprised to find Michiru still at the kitchen table, apparently wrapped in thought.

"Michiru-san!" she raised her voice to snap the girl out of her reverie.

"Mmhm?"

Michiru slowly turned her head.

"Excuse me, but it's past eight o'clock" Chindan informed her, "and the driver has been waiting outside for some time."

The girl seemed genuinely surprised to hear how late the time was. She hurried to finish her tea, only to discover it was almost cold. Yet only a moment before, she had felt the hot vapors rise against her palm…

_Was I daydreaming…?_

She stood up and took her schoolbag.

"Do you feel a draft in the house, Chindan…?"

"Yes, I opened all the windows…but I think I'd better shut them back" the woman opined thoughtfully. "Looks like there'll be a storm later."

Michiru nodded slowly, a distant look in her eyes.

"A storm…"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

**AN: Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Please review and let me know! **

**(Chapter V will be up in a few minutes, as the two parts are meant to be read together—posting them separately just better outlines a couple of ideas)**

**Myosotis**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Day after uneventful day went by, and the people of Tokyo went on with their usual lives. Michiru became fast friends with Elsa, whom she admired for her easy-going nature and firm determination to achieve success—and who, in turn, admired her for her artistic expressiveness and great empathy towards the others. Since she had discovered Elsa also went to her school, they had made a habit of getting together at lunch breaks; Michiru sometimes watched Elsa's team train after school, as well.

At the end of one of these trainings, as she watched her friend pant from the effort and down a bottle of water, Michiru asked:

"How do you do it, Elsa? Doesn't the effort become too much? How can you keep running when you're so tired? I could _never_ make it to the finish line."

Draping a towel around her neck, the tall girl leaned against the iron railing around the school stadium.

"I often get cramps in my legs during the last minutes of the race. Sometimes they're so bad, I know that if I stopped, I'd probably fall over…but that's why I keep going. I know it's just a phase, and if I keep running, it will pass." She wiped her sweaty brow with the edge of the towel. "I know I have to do my best for my team to win! And I put all my effort into it…even if I don't make it to the finish line, I'll know I've tried my best."

"But you also want to be the first to cross the line…!"

Elsa smiled mischievously.

"Well, of course I do! I thrive on the competition, dear Michiru! You know, that's why I envy you sometimes" the girl admitted with a shrug, "you can do your best without outside motivation…everything comes from within your heart. You want my opinion as one who knows what she's talking about? You have it in you. If you had to do it, or wanted to do it… You'd make it to the finish line in any race, Michiru!"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

That evening, Michiru descended in the basement again, where she had arranged the neat and comfortable working space for her hours of painting. Beneath one of the high windows waited the painting she had begun almost two weeks before. The light fell across the large canvas, showing the blurry first brushstrokes. Michiru frowned slightly, looking at the profiling image from all angles.

"Why this mystery?" she asked out loud to no one in particular. "I can't paint something I can't see in my mind…!"

She studied the dark streaks that occupied the upper quarter of the canvas.

_It…might resemble a night sky…or maybe an appearing aurora borealis…? _

The painting stood silent, not responding to any of her thoughts.

_Maybe I was simply in a gloomy mood when I started it…and that mood is gone now. Things have been pretty good these past days. Maybe the painting asks for a lighter tone… _

She prepared the oils again, this time choosing the pastel colors instead of the nuances of blue she had used last time.

"Now…work with me, here."

She held the brush in her hand, and tried to envision the next stroke. But no matter how much she contemplated the painting, she could feel no right spot to put the tip of the brush. Which, considering the canvas was three-quarters white, was unsettling. And plain weird.

_What's happening? What am I trying to create here?_

She looked at the vague image.

"What are you trying to tell me…?"

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Michiru couldn't fall asleep that night.

She opened one of her bedroom windows and enjoyed the chilly night breeze. All around, the neighborhood was quiet and dark, and in the distance, she could see the still waters of the ocean resting.

_No…they're not resting. Just beneath the calm surface, there is turmoil. _

She shook her head at the thought, unsure where it had come from.

_The waters are growing restless. _

Michiru directed an uncertain gaze towards the distant ocean. Why did it inspire such strange thoughts in her?

The hairs on her neck rose, and she felt goosebumps form on her arms.

"Must be the cold…"

Decidedly, she closed the window and returned to bed. The cool night air made her feel more tired, and she soon drifted off…

…only to wake up an indefinite amount of time later, covered in sweat.

For a moment, she was afraid to move. But slowly, she pulled the sheets to her chin, and curled under them.

"I don't have nightmares…" she whispered to the empty room.

And it was true. She had never, in her entire life, had a nightmare—at least none she could remember. And definitely none to wake her from her sleep. Yet now, she felt her entire body shaking under the impression of a dream.

A dream she could not even remember.

Michiru swallowed hard, and tried to go back to sleep again. Whatever nightmare had woken her, it was long over, and would not return. She did not get nightmares.

She did _not _get nightmares.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Except…she did.

Over the next fortnight, the nightmares returned three times. And every time, it was the same. Michiru would wake up in a sweat, paralyzed with irrational fear, and she would _know _it had been another terrible dream. But the content of the dreams eluded her. They lingered, black shadows darkening her days, right at the edges of her conscious mind. And no matter how much she tried, she would never recall one single detail. But she knew where to find the details that escaped her.

The second time the nightmare had woken her, she had followed her intuition and descended to the basement. There, the barely touched canvas awaited in the dark, silently inviting her to resume work on it. The mysterious painting seemed to create itself, using her brush as a mere instrument. Michiru watched in awe, as night after sleepless night her hand drew strokes of dark-blue, or green or black, to form what was starting to look like an enormous wall of ominous darkness.

Her mornings had become gray, her evenings almost torture in anguished foresight. She decidedly ignored the nightmares, and refused to give them a second thought. Yet, each time she woke up terrified in the middle of the night, she would quietly go down the stairs, and work on the ever-growing wall of gloomy colors. Then, in daylight, she would cover the canvas, and pretend not to know what hovered beneath the opaque coat.

She pretended not to know that, concealed by the cover and her own reluctant mind, the stuff of her nightmares was slowly taking form.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

**AN: Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Please review and let me know!**

**Myosotis**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks to all of you who are reading this story, and to those of you who leave a comment:), you know how much I appreciate it, thank you very, very much!**

**Chapter VI**

Michiru let out a long sigh, and pushed the pile of letters aside. The elegant calligraphy on each of the creamy envelopes would have appealed to others—but to her, it only meant the envelope hid yet another impersonal note. People sent her invitations, commendations and offers of representation in the strangest areas. But they never really _wrote _to her…

Still, at least they went through the trouble of sending the letters. Michiru shook her head. She wondered why she always thought of what people did _not _do, instead of appreciating what they did. She always thought they could come closer to her…but never really wished they would.

_My world is just fine without complications…_

She tore the envelope open with a long-exercised move. Her sapphire eyes lit up as she skimmed the note inside. It was an invitation to play at the yearly gathering of the Chamber Music Society, a small select club of highly-positioned people who occasionally came together to celebrate their common taste for music. Pride fluttered inside her as she imagined herself playing for such an audience. Michiru's eyes darted to the date on the invitation. It was more than two months ahead, but she would need all the time to prepare for such an event.

The old grandfather clock in the living room announced noon, and the girl almost jumped out of her seat. She mentally winced as the doorbell rang a few moments later.

"Good day, Miss Michiru!"

At the back of her mind, she wondered why Chindan had not answered the door as she was supposed to, but did not dwell on it.

"Yashashi-san", she greeted with a nod and a friendly smile.

"Your car is ready. We should go soon, if we are to arrive at the art show in time…"

Michiru reddened slightly. Until moments before, she had entirely forgotten about the opening ceremony she was supposed to attend at a new art gallery.

"I'll take a few more minutes..." she started, then realized the man would have to wait for her anyway. "Or…maybe an hour or so…" she added, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Miss Michiru, you need to get there in _less_ than an hour" the driver reminded her in an amused tone of voice. "Of course, if you wish, I can try to fly us over there, but still…"

"It's open all day, Yashashi-san", the girl said good-naturedly, "they won't hold their breaths for me!"

But she did feel bad for keeping _him _waiting for so long. Unlike herself, Yashashi had a family to go home to, and had probably made plans with them for that Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, a strange idea occurred to her, and an eager smile lit up her entire face.

"Please, excuse me for forgetting…and for making you come all this way! But you don't have to wait for me." Her tone betrayed a degree of enthusiasm as she announced: "I'll just walk there by myself!"

The driver stood no chance whatsoever of changing her mind.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

_An hour or so later…_

Michiru picked up her white hat, carefully tied the sapphire ribbon around it, and gave herself one last look in the mirror. She knew she was dressed a bit too elegantly for a walk through the city, and probably not elegantly enough for the opening of an art gallery.

_I'm the one who decided to walk there in the first place, so there's not much chance to go back on that… _

She picked up the key from a small table near the door, and in doing so frowned slightly. Chindan had apparently left the house for some reason, and Michiru could not remember having been told about it. She didn't really care about all the formalities, but instinct—and her parents—had always told her to respect them. But, it _was _Sunday afternoon after all, and the woman had all the right to go wherever she wanted.

Michiru locked the house, and walked down the quiet street wearing a content smile. The faint breeze caressed her face, and she enjoyed its chilly brush against her cheek. Happy laughter from a nearby playground reached her, inexplicably boasting her already good mood. The sun shone bright on her, and she felt grateful just to be alive and able to contemplate all the beauty around her.

She huffed slightly as the road became steeper. Almost without realizing it, she had walked quite a distance from her house, and now the street led her upwards. She patiently climbed the stony hill, silently wondering why people had not simply leveled it upon building the road. But the easy climb increased her stamina, and the girl sprinted the rest of the way up. On both sides, the houses looked almost strange, tilted at discreet angles all the way to the top of the hill. Once there, Michiru turned back to watch the city below, and again she felt grateful for the sight that greeted her.

The white buildings seemed to bask in the bright sunlight; every here and there, small parks or playgrounds stood out as patches of green streaked with colorful splashes. In the strong light, the outline of the city stood hazily against the clear blue sky, and in the distance, the calm waters of the ocean shone with each drop.

_What a wonderful painting this would—…_

The beautiful thought was cut short by a shiver that suddenly ran down her spine. Despite the warm sunrays, Michiru's world seemed to freeze—and under her wide eyes, the picturesque sight turned gruesome as the city crumbled to nothingness.

Darkness arrived first, and with it came the screams of thousands, as they felt their world die. The buildings that had, seconds before, towered proudly were shattered to dust, along with everyone inside, and Michiru gasped in horror as she saw all the people go, as she heard their cries, and the heart-rending cry of an agonizing world.

And suddenly they became quiet.

She stared at the contour of a tidal wave…a silent wave, on the verge of striking.

_**"You, watch out! Get out of the—"**_

A loud screech reached her ears, and the sight shattered. Reality spun swiftly from utter darkness to a cacophony of colors so bright it made her dizzy. Michiru covered her face with her trembling hands, and tried to get air into her hurting lungs. Clutching to a nearby streetlamp for support, she became aware of a mild warmth on her bare arms. Sunlight.

Michiru dared lower her hands from her face. A motorcycle slid by her, slightly losing direction before its driver could regain control and dive forward up the road, with an unflattering expletive. Around her, everything looked and sounded normal…everything but the mad pounding of her terror-gripped heart.

She shivered as she looked down to the city, but Tokyo greeted her with the same beautiful sight from earlier.

Had it all been a dream? Had she imagined…the _unimaginable_…?

Down the road, Michiru saw another motorcycle approaching. _That _was real. The screeching of the wheels on the hot concrete was real. The cold drops of sweat trickling down her temples were real, too.

The ghastly vision was not.

Maybe the sun had affected her vision…maybe it was heatstroke. Yet, as she stood on the quiet road, light hat partially obscuring her line of sight, the corners of her casual dress fluttering in the soft wind, Michiru felt the sudden urge to run. Run, as fast and as far as she could, away from the memory of Darkness. She would just forget this had ever happened. It didn't—_couldn't!—_mean anything.

The second motorcycle drove past her, and the girl raised her eyes just as the driver lifted the visor of the helmet.

_Tenoh Haruka!_

Michiru turned on her heels and fled the scene, the sounds of the late-afternoon motorcycle cruise covering her footsteps.

An hour later, in the safety of her own room, she forced herself to forget the horrifying vision. A sleepless night later, she forced herself to push the image of Haruka Tenoh away from her tormented mind. And as the days passed, she tightened her grip on normality. She tried hard to ignore the intensifying feeling that it was quickly slipping out of her grasp.

**AN: Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Please let me know what you think! **

**Myosotis**

**PS: Don't worry, I remember Michiru had been watching Haruka from afar before knowing she was the other senshi;) but thanks for reminding it nonetheless! (I'd say a bit more but then the author's notes would get too long…)**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you very, very much for reading and reviewing:) I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter VII**

"Chindan! Into the office, _please_."

The girl's sharp tone elicited unusual haste in the maid. So did the fact that her employer called her to _the office_—namely, Michiru's father's office, a room the girl never used. Abandoning the dishes she'd been listlessly washing, Chindan hurried to comply.

"Take a seat."

Across a bulky wooden desk, the teenager sat in a chair almost twice her size. For a long moment, all she did was tap her fingers on the desk, keeping her gaze fixed on a point behind Chindan.

"Yes, Michiru-san…?" the woman finally questioned, with a tinge of uneasiness. "How can I help you?"

Michiru reached in a drawer and took out a folded newspaper. She banged it on the desk with surprising force. Her eyes swiftly met Chindan's; anger had lent them a darker shade of blue. Yet when she spoke, her tone was icily calm:

"Take a look at this." She almost shoved the newspaper into the woman's slightly shaking hands. "Take your time" she added after a second.

The woman swallowed visibly. But she wasn't going to allow one wispy teenager to intimidate her. She displayed a confused mien.

"I'm afraid I don't understand…"

Michiru nodded slowly.

"Can you read?"

"What! This is insul—"

"Can. You. _Read._"

The girl's tone was almost menacing. Chindan had _never_ seen her employer in that state. True, the girl had been jumpy and more withdrawn in recent days, but never that bad. Her voice dripped sarcasm, and her steely gaze seemed to bore straight into the woman's skull. Chindan was alarmed.

"Yes" she replied, trying to sound offended.

"Read this for me, please". Her tone reverted to normal, and Michiru put a finger on one of the articles.

The maid's eyes skimmed over the title, and the corners of her mouth tightened.

"This is a bunch of—"

"Read it."

"But I don't—"

"_Read_."

Chindan swallowed hard, and complied.

" '_Teenage Artist: Child Prodigy or Social Recluse?_'" she started, trying to keep a steady voice. "_Her paintings make the object of great admiration in art galleries, and her violin playing draws crowds to her concerts. Most of the art lovers in this area have heard of Kaioh Michiru, the striking teenager who has charmed everyone through her works._"

The woman paused, but one sharp look from Michiru made her continue. What did she care, in the end? It wasn't her fault the girl couldn't take some constructive criticism:

"_But what kind of person truly lies behind the sweet façade? Our sources inform that the seemingly charming Michiru actually shuns the company of the very people she supposedly plays for. Living in an isolated house, surrounded by great luxury, but no companionship whatsoever, the girl prefers solitude and displays little warmth towards those around her. She…_"

"Stop."

Chindan complied. She took her hands off the tabloid, as though the simple contact repulsed her, and gave Michiru a blank look.

"Tell me, Chindan" the girl started in a calm voice, "what do you think of this article…?"

"These journalists don't know what to write these days" the woman supplied quickly. "Don't worry, Michiru-san, hardly anyone reads—"

"You have thirty minutes to pack your things and leave this house."

For a second, the woman seemed to want to continue her idea. Then the words registered, and her composed expression dissolved into shock and anger.

"_What_? I had nothing to do with this, you have no right…!"

"Well…" Michiru seemed completely relaxed, but one could tell by the way she gripped the handles of the armchair that she was anything but. "Chindan, _social recluse_ I may be, but even I have my contacts. Would you like to know what they said on the identity of those 'sources'?"

The woman started shaking her head, when Michiru said curtly.

"Save it. You're fired, Chindan."

The maid—or former maid—froze for a second, then stood up in full rage.

"_Fine_!" she shouted, "fine, have it your way, you brat! I was sick of working in this house, anyway! You think _that _was bad?" she threatened pointing at the newspaper, "Just wait and see what I'll tell them next! They paid me well enough for this! The 'source' will have a lot more to reveal!"

"At least I'll know she's not living in my house anymore!" For the first time, Michiru started losing her composure. "How could you say something like that about me!"

Chindan snorted.

"You really can't see, can you? It's all true, you fool…" She seemed to draw strength from the girl's shocked expression, and her voice escalated in loathing. "You think it was easy for me? You think I enjoyed serving you all this time, seeing how a snotty little fool with illusions of grandeur had it _all_?"

Michiru felt tears well up in her eyes. She felt disappointed, betrayed…alone. If someone who had lived with her for one year thought such things, was there any surprise that others believed it, too?

"Just…go away", she ordered, her voice suddenly thick with the urge to cry.

Chindan stormed out of the office, and the girl slid down in the oversized chair. Her breath was fast and unsteady, and her hands shook lightly. She heard the—former—maid packing, opening closets and drawers where no possessions of her own could possibly be—but Michiru didn't care.

She could barely believe the meanness the world held. How did others deal with it—or did the world hold that malice for her alone? People were so cruel. They obviously didn't mind hurting others, not people like Chindan at least, or like whoever had written the article. People who thought she was cold…who could blame her if she chose to stay away from them?

_Is this world worth saving? _

She frowned at the strange thought. But before she could wonder where it had come from, a thousand others invaded her mind, and she was almost overwhelmed with the intensity of emotions that she did not recognize, with the gravity of thoughts she did not conjure.

_Saving…is this what will have to be done? Who? Who will do it? How? How can I help, why should I help, why not? Why now? Where? Where do I find it? What will it take, the saving of the world? What will I do…we? What will **we** do…? _

_Where are you…?_

Michiru's eyes sprang open, and she scuttled out of her seat. She hit the edge of the desk running out of the office, but she didn't feel the pain. Down the stairs she flew, to the basement where, hidden among shadows, the answer awaited. Her heart pounded wildly, and suddenly…

…suddenly it reverted to its normal rhythm. As if freezing water had been poured over her, the girl felt…cold…numb. Her mind abruptly took control of her body, but something had control over her mind. Her moves were slow, deliberate, as she pulled the cover off the large canvas.

_"No!"_

Michiru recoiled from the apocalyptic sight that the almost finished painting revealed. She stumbled across a small wooden stool, and fought to keep her balance. She had to escape the haunting thought! Turning on her heels, she fled from the room, feeling the weight of the image as an evil stare behind her.

Instinctively, she dashed down the well-lit hallway of her house, towards the door. But as her desperate run brought her closer to the exit, the indistinct panic escalated. It surged through her veins, and it was more than panic, it was foreboding, and it was no longer indistinct, it was _focused_.

As Michiru reached the massive front door of her house, all the horrifying thoughts, all the unwelcome emotions that ravaged through her focused in one single, clear sensation: _imminent danger_.

And the doorbell rang.

AN:** Like it? Hate it? Should I go on? Please let me know what you think:) **

**Myosotis**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I am very sorry for the delay in posting this! I hope you did not give up on the story:) Thank you very much for taking the time to read and review! I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Chapter VIII **

Chindan closed the bag so violently that the zipper flew right off. Cursing under her breath, she hoisted the sack onto her shoulder. It was considerably heavier than it had been when she had first arrived at the house.

"Was I supposed to just leave without _any _compensation…"

She'd taken everything she thought she could get away with—silverware (they never used it anyway!), small decorations that she deemed precious, and even the picture frame from the living room table. It looked expensive, and no one cared about the old family photo it held, anyway.

She heard Michiru's hurried footsteps up the stairs, and instinctively tightened her grip on the bag. Intimidated or afraid she was most certainly not, but it would not have served to be discovered leaving with half of the girl's possessions.

The doorbell rang, and for one second, Chindan reacted to answer it—then she let out a disdainful snort.

"Let's see you handle everything yourself, spoiled brat…"

She left the room, and slowly walked down the hallway. Voices came from the direction of the door. Loud, uneasy, agitated voices, that abruptly fell silent. But Chindan did not see the signs that all was not right. Petty and oblivious, she trudged down the long hallway.

Thus, the first indication she had that something unusual was happening was the gruesome sight she stumbled onto.

She dropped the bag from her shoulder, frozen in place. Too late, she screamed…

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Michiru tried to focus on the man in front of her, but her thoughts swirled madly inside her head. Reason told her there was nothing to fear. She had opened the door to find only her driver, Yashashi, standing on the other side. But her mind could not force her to believe everything was right—not when every fibre of her being it screamed that everything was wrong…

She frowned, and swallowed hard.

"…angry and disappointed, Miss Michiru. Those journalists find the best of people to spit their venom on!"

"It…doesn't matter," she replied.

"Just say the word, and I'll go down to their headquarters and make them—"

"No, no! Thank you, Yashashi-san, you're very kind…"

The driver suddenly reached out a hand and caught hers in a strong grip. A shiver racked Michiru's body, triggering every alarm in her mind. She tried to free her hand, but the man held it firmly.

"You don't deserve this, Miss Michiru. I just want you to know that my family and I don't believe those lies, and we'll tell everyone that!"

The girl nodded her thanks. The man's face was earnest, his voice sincere. She looked him in the eye, and the same irrational fear shot through her. His strong grip still held her hand.

"Yashashi-san…could you please let go…?"

But the man suddenly squeezed tighter, causing her to gasp in pain. He bent towards her, his dark hair covering his eyes. He stumbled to the wall, pulling her forcefully along—and when he doubled over, he brought her down with him.

"I—what—don't—"

His truncated words were spoken in a hoarse tone, so unlike his usual, gentle one. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense. His fingers dug hard into the skin of her palm.

"Let go!" Michiru yelled, pulling with all her strength to break free. "Let me go!"

And suddenly, a guttural whisper came from deep within the convulsing man.

"_Destiny doesn't let go…_"

And under her terrified looks, he was shaken by a violent shiver…and changed. Where there had been limbs, thick, rough tentacles emerged, and his torso grew into an amorphous fleshy mass. For one tortured moment, the man's face gave her a horrified look, before disappearing in the shapeless mound that his body had become.

A scream pierced the air, and the monster turned its attention to a stunned Chindan, momentarily forgetting Michiru.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

The world reduced to slow motion. For an eternity, Michiru tried to break free of the unyielding grip, as the man who held her shook and wheezed as if attacked by some unseen force. For an eternity, she tried to clear her chaotic thoughts, to reign in the panic, the regret, the horror, the pity, for him and for her and for a world doomed.

Then, all her erratic feelings converged to one: certainty. And all the thoughts her frenzied mind had created died down, leaving one single idea inside her.

"Destiny doesn't let go…"

Her voice sounded oddly distant. Still kneeled on the floor, her back to the wall, Michiru felt strangely detached. With mild fascination she watched the monster—that had been a kind, caring man—advance on Chindan.

"No! No, stay away from me! Don't!"

The woman's horrified screams floated into Michiru's consciousness. The girl watched, wide-eyed, as the monster closed in on the woman. It raised one tentacle to strike. The petrified maid could not defend herself.

The tendril came down brutally; bits of paper and cement flew as it tore a hole in the floor, the same place where Chindan had stood only seconds before.

Mere feet away, Michiru tried to catch her breath. She had pushed the woman away just in time. The monster—no, Yashashi-san…no, the _monster_!—turned on them once more. The girl tried to move, but her body refused to obey. Behind her, Chindan tried to scream again, but only a strangled croak came out.

The monster loomed above them, and with a deafening howl brought all its tentacles down on them.

A blinding light filled the room; time seemed to freeze. With one last effort to thwart the destiny that had hunted her down, Michiru tried to keep her eyes closed against the white radiance. But whatever awakened inside her proved stronger—her entire being vibrated with anticipation. She opened her eyes.

A small, blue wand hovered in front of her, emanating the strange light.

Michiru felt old, and she felt child. She hung between innocence and cynicism. She recognized deceit, and wanted to believe it was salvation. The wand floated, bright and warm and harmless…and beyond it, the monster poised to strike…and the heavy load of knowledge that the girl wished she could ignore.

With her mind's eye, Michiru saw the apocalyptic painting. She relived the earlier vision of destruction. She sensed the tidal wave loom over her, just out of reach. She heard the silence of the crumbling world. She recalled the warm sun on her bare skin and the caress of the free breeze. She thought of her music.

Her fingers reached into the warm light, and half of her sighed with the regret of her lost innocence, and half of her smiled with the contentment of her found purpose.

She closed her hand around the wand, and it felt familiar against her palm.

She almost felt her mind reorganize, her knowledge, her desires, her feelings structure around the one mission that she could not fail. She felt stronger, calmer, more balanced and infinitely determined. Then came the memories.

And she felt the loneliness acutely, and she did not feel it at all because she knew that, _somewhere_, the missing parts of her puzzle were slowly coming together.

_Together…_

_I'll be waiting for you…_

The white light began to fade, and Michiru looked down at herself.Her outfit was that of a warrior—she knew her heart should follow suit. The monster —_Yashashi-san?_—stopped for a second to take in her new appearance. She eyed him calmly.

"I am the Warrior of the Seas, Sailor Neptune!" she spoke confidently. "Whatever you are, you will be sorry for attacking my home and for harming innocents!"

With a low growl, the creature attacked again. She dodged his strike with ease, her body moving almost instinctively out of harm's way. Raising her arms against her chest, Sailor Neptune assumed a defensive posture. She would not attack—how could she, when the kind and loyal Yashashi was still inside the monster?

_Please, run…run and don't cross my path again…I cannot fight you, and I must…_

A tentacle came down hard on her, and she felt the pain of the blow across her ribs. The knot in her stomach tightened. Her house was coming down around her. They could not continue the cruel taunting game for much longer.

_I can't…why…why should I? _

She dodged another attack, and the monster howled in rage. It suddenly turned away from her. In one swift move, it reached Chindan, and wrapped its tendrils around her, lifting her off the floor. The older woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

For one second, Sailor Neptune took in the scene. The creature had only minutes before been Yashashi-san, perhaps the closest she could come to a friend. Chindan was the same one who had betrayed her confidence in such a cruel way. Why would Michiru Kaioh hesitate between the two?

The bitter irony of the situation was not lost on her. But the choice was obvious. She was not Michiru any longer—_or at least, not **only** her…forgive me, Yashashi-san…I would give anything to have another choice…_

She frowned, and searched deep within for the words that had once been second nature to her. Power flowed through her, and she found herself knowing how to channel it.

**"Deep Submerge!"**

The sphere of energy left her hands, hitting the monster square in the center. The tendrils dissipated into thin air, and Chindan slid to the floor. The warrior directed a tortured gaze towards the monster...and gasped as she saw Yashashi lying on the dusty floor.

Tears flowed down her cheeks, as she kneeled by the man, checking him for injuries. She whispered a silent prayer as she found none. Slowly, she felt the storm inside her ebb away…

_The ocean is settling…?_

Looking down at herself, the girl saw her uniform fading away, to be replaced by her usual clothes. Suddenly exhausted, she let out a long sigh…

…that caught in her throat as an alarming thought ran through her mind.

Swiftly, she turned around. Behind her, reclining against the far wall of the room, Chindan regarded her with a wary gaze.

**AN: Like it? Hate it? What do you think? Should I go on? Review and let me know:)**

**On a different note, I know some of you expect more of Michiru's thoughts of Haruka…there will be some of that in the next chapter(s?). But, don't you think Michiru would not have focused that much on Haruka before awakening as Sailor Neptune? That's just my take on it, though, I still hope you like the story! **

**Myosotis**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thank you so much for your reviews! They are always making my days brighter:) and I'm very, very grateful for that! **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter IX**

Seated by the window in her room, Michiru watched the twilight, closing her eyes as the last amber sunrays caressed her face. The red evening sun set slowly, disappearing beneath the violet waves of a calm ocean.

_"W-who are you?"_

Chindan's frightened question rang in her mind. She wished she had an answer…

_"What…what happened?"_

The driver had come to shortly, confused and with no memory of the battle. And again, Michiru had not had an answer to his question.

Who am I…what did happen…?

She saw the confusion in his eyes, the fear in Chindan's, and felt them resonate within her own soul. Indeed, she was the one who had lost most. While Yashashi-san had gone home thinking he suffered from heatstroke, Michiru had been left watching her hands in horror of what she had almost done. While Chindan had scurried out the front door, presumably to a quieter and safer life, Michiru had been left worrying that the woman would one day betray her.

The girl sighed.

_Where do I go from here?_

The small, blue wand rested on the window sill. She regarded it with mixed bitterness and nostalgia. It felt familiar and alien at the same time.

Surely, it was as much a part of her as her music, as much as her dreams and her watercolors. Yet, it was entirely new at the same time, bringing out a side of her that Michiru had to rediscover. Her own mind had become a foreign place…she could no longer tell the difference between _her _thoughts and the thoughts of the _other _inside her.

The girl shook her head and sat up from her chair. The weight in her chest had not disappeared…she suspected it never really would.

_What I could have done today…what I was willing to do…how can I live with that? _

Her mind wandered back to the earlier events. Yashashi's terrified expression, right before he had changed into the monstrous creature, haunted her. It was frightening to recall the immense power behind her attack…and how natural it had felt. But no, she refused to even think she had enjoyed it! She could never enjoy fighting! It was against all her beliefs! Or…was it?

_I am an artist…I create. _

_But _she_…she is a soldier. She destroys… _

_I _am _her…_

_I can't do this…I want to go back. _

"I want to go back!!" Michiru cry echoed in her silent house. She doubled over as a wave of intense fear shot through her. "Please…I don't want this…."

Voice strangled by sobs, she pleaded to the deaf walls of her room. Terror stabbing her heart, she sank to her knees. The tears she had willed back all along rolled down her cheeks, as she raised her eyes heavenwards.

"Please…"

Silently, knelt on the cold floor, Michiru wept the loss of her life, recent and distant memories merging until she could no longer tell which life she was crying for.

That night, she discovered one never did run out of tears to cry.

_I have to stop. I'm so tired…I have to stop. And be strong…I'm…so tired…_

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

Somewhere else, another young woman clenched her fists in anger. It was not fair! Michiru should not have to deal with everything on her own! Everyone else had had support…yet the aqua-haired teenager would have to see herself through. Would Michiru be strong enough?

In yet another place, a third person turned nervously in her sleep. She dreamt that she was running…and she could not move away from whatever monster chased her. But she would escape at any price! She _had _to! In the awful dream, she ran faster and faster, until her breath became labored and sweat glistened on her closed eyelids.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

When Michiru opened her eyes again, she was still knelt on the floor of her room, her exhausted body leaning heavily against the bed frame. The white light of the full moon shone in on her.

"Beautiful…"

The word escaped her lips, and Michiru smiled sadly. There was such hope, such purity in the shimmer of a single moonray. There was so much beauty in the world…

_That _has always been her dream. To capture the charm she saw all around, to take it in her heart and show it to others. That was what her paintings were all about. Her music as well. That was her sacred duty as an artist, to keep the beauty alive in people's hearts and minds.

_How can I let this beautiful world die? How can I refuse to defend it, when it is in my power to do so? _

Did she really have to give up her love for beauty? Did her new mission as a soldier call for that sacrifice? She had been reborn to fight. Fight? For the world? Fight to protect the wonder that she tried so hard to convey to everyone.

_My mission as an artist is no different!_

Michiru raised her eyes to watch the full moon.

The warrior, the painter, the violinist, the dreamer, the guardian inside her fell together in sudden harmony.

_I will protect all the beauty in this world, with my music, with my heart, with all my powers and all my life!_

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

**AN: Thank you for staying with this story:)! Please let me know what you think! Comments, ideas, suggestions are always welcome! **

**Until next time!**

**Myosotis**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you for reading and special thanks of course to those who leave a review—they always make me smile! **

**Well…here we are, the last chapter of this story. Also, you should know I went back and edited chapter IX to fit in some new facts that simply refused to go into this one! So if you feel there's anything left unanswered, that's where you should look. Enjoy!**

**Chapter X**

The veil hung heavily over the massive painting frame.

_"It's the event of the week, everyone's been talking about it!"_

Its dark corners pointed downwards like an ominous flag in defeat.

_"People came from all over the country for this exhibition!"_

A faint draft carried in the room through the open door, causing the cover to flutter slightly...

_"Some of Japan's most promising artists will be here tonight!"_

…but it stuck to the large painting it hid, as though refusing to reveal it to the world.

"Hey, Michiru! Are you excited?"

Standing to the side of the covered painting, a petite aqua-haired girl turned to the direction of the voice. A small smile graced her features, as she laid her eyes on the speaker.

"Elsa! I didn't think you'd make it today…"

The tan-skinned athlete winked.

"Are you kidding? And miss the uncovering of this mysterious painting that you wouldn't even let me peek at?" She frowned and shook her head. "Honestly, Michiru, I've never been so curious about an artwork in my entire life! I can't wait to see it!"

Her friend lowered her eyes for a split-second, and Elsa thought she had seen a hint of sadness in them. But when Michiru raised them again, her gaze was clear and discreetly guarded.

"It won't be long now, I guess. The organizers will start uncovering the paintings in a couple of minutes…"

"So…" Elsa considered speaking her mind for a moment, then thought better of it. "_Are_ you excited? This is possibly the greatest cultural event of the season…it must be every artist's dream to have at least one work on display here…!"

Seemingly lost in thought, Michiru ran a finger along the dusty cover over her painting.

"I did feel very elated when they asked me to participate…" she said in a soft tone.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence became uncomfortable…and suddenly…

"What's wrong with you, Michiru?"

The smaller girl kept her expression carefully neutral, yet it was obvious the question had not surprised her.

"Everything's just as it should be," she answered calmly.

"That can't be true, you've been acting so…so…"

Elsa struggled to find a word, but failed. In truth, she knew something was amiss but could not put her finger on it. On the surface, her friend seemed unchanged, yet beyond the appearances, she could feel something different.

"I don't know, I just feel that this isn't you."

For a second, a smile filled with bitter irony curled Michiru's lips, but it was gone just as quickly. She gave the fraise-haired girl a friendly look.

"Don't worry, Elsa…but thank you."

The athlete opened her mouth to argue some more, but a loud voice covered hers.

"This way, this way, we have to get them all uncovered before they allow people in, come on, come on—ah, what are you two doing here!" One of the men in charge with the exhibition entered the room, gesturing nervously at two subordinates. "Oh, Miss Kaioh, right, if you'll just go down to the entrance hall where the rest of the artists are and—and who are you? How did you get in here? Visitors aren't allowed ye—no! Careful with that, it goes in the corner, hasn't anyone read the instructions I left for you people…"

Barking orders, the organizer moved away from the two girls, and they left the spacious room, abandoning their previous discussion.

Minutes later, dozens of visitors poured into the gallery, filling the rooms and corridors, whispering comments or questions.

"Well…let's go see your painting shall we?" Elsa had decided to give up questioning for the moment. "I want to be the first to offer you my praise on it!"

"That's a lot of confidence," Michiru quipped. "Maybe you won't like it!"

She had meant for the words to come across as teasing, but they came out rather sharp and nervous.

"Nonsense, I'd bet my next race on—"

Her words froze in midair as she entered the room that hosted Michiru's painting.

The scene clearly dominated the entire room, conferring it an ominous air of silent doom. Beneath a gloomy dark sky, a tidal wave towered over a crumbling city. A sinister atmosphere emanated from the painting, and people gathered around it watched in awe the dusk of a dying world.

Elsa swallowed hard. She could feel Michiru's eyes on her, curious, challenging, defensive, fearful all at once.

"This is…intense, Michiru." She had to make an effort to take her eyes off the mesmerizing amalgam of dark colors. "It's beautiful," she admitted openly, "majestic and beautiful…"

The artist simply smiled in what appeared to be modest acknowledgement. In truth, there was much more to it…for Michiru, the painting was an urge to go forward, and a cry of regret at the same time. It was the creation of her many tortured nights, but also the work of her newly purposeful days. It was instinct and intent brought together in a silent warning to the ignorant world. And beyond it all…was an unvoiced call.

_"Where are you…"_

"Hm? I'm right here," Elsa replied and the aqua-haired girl realized she had spoken out loud. "Should we head back, the other artists seem to be gathering in the hall again…?"

Michiru nodded, and they walked back in silence, looking at the other paintings in the exhibition as they passed by the numerous frames.

**TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

One by one, the artists left the entrance hall to mingle and discuss their works, and Elsa and Michiru found themselves alone once more.

"Listen…"

But the taller girl noticed her friend was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to hear her.

Michiru had her eyes fixed on a small painting on the opposite wall. It represented a patch of sand and sea, on a grim, cloudy day. There were no people in the picture, no movement whatsoever, and the colors had a cold, gray quality to them. Yet, to her, it spoke not of dourness and rain.

"The Sky…"

Almost unconsciously, she ran a hand over the glass protecting the painting. From behind the massive grey clouds, a single sunray broke through. Michiru's finger traced it all the way down to the stormy ocean waves.

Elsa watched with a small, puzzled frown. When Michiru finally became aware of her friend's stare upon her, she turned on the other a gaze more cheerful and brighter than Elsa had seen in many days.

"It's called 'Hope'," the petite said quietly.

The fraise-haired track runner nodded, not in understanding but in acceptance, and she followed Michiru out the front doors of the gallery, into the windy spring afternoon.

**The End**

**AN: This is the last author's note you have to take from me (well for this story at least), now there's some good news, eh:-P Thank you very, very much for staying with the story until the end! I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free (or rather, feel encouraged!) to leave a comment! **

**Myosotis**

**PS: This story was never really meant to deal with how Michiru found out about Haruka…as the summary states, it's about Michiru's awakening as Sailor Neptune. Still… "the end" is tentative, and might be reconsidered:) And again…your opinions are always welcome! **


End file.
